Pathfinder's Way(40)

Shea couldn't believe she was hearing this.

"What am I supposed to do? Take the time to talk when people are walking  into danger? They'll be dead before I get through the first  explanation."

"Trust takes time," Eamon said.

Aaannnd, they were back to this.

"You can't build a rapport overnight," he continued, ignoring her small  growl. "You want people to believe you? Well, you've got to start small.  Explain why something is the way it is rather than just telling them  what to do."

"Take the shadow beetles, for instance," Buck pointed out helpfully.

"I was right about those," Shea snapped.

"Yes, but no one believed you when you said there was danger up ahead.  What's the point in being right if you can't get anybody to listen?"  Eamon said.

The point was that she was right, and they were wrong. If they'd  listened, everybody would still be alive. They didn't, so they were  dead. Not her problem. She'd done her job.

Eamon, reading the look on her face, snorted. "It's all very well to be  right. I like being correct just as much as the next person, but one day  you might regret not being able to get your point across. Your  inability to influence your fellow soldiers might end up getting someone  you care about killed."

Wouldn't be the first time.

Sensing that his words had struck a chord, Eamon said, "Think about it.  You're good at what you do, but you'd be better if you could relate to  your fellow scouts. No one can survive alone out here."

Putting those words in her head, Buck and Eamon peeled away from her and joined Clark up front.

Shea was left alone. Again. She was beginning to sense a theme.

She spent a good hour pissed at his criticism. He barely knew her but  thought he could tell her everything that she was doing was wrong.

Ok, so her inability to relate to others or be remotely diplomatic  wasn't new. She'd had trouble fitting in with Highlanders and just about  everybody else her entire life. At first it was because she was so  young and had come from a very different background than most villagers.  The guild, in many respects, was much more open minded than those  living in the outlying communities. They were more accepting of a body's  differences. So few came for training anymore that anybody able to pass  the tests found a place to belong.

Perhaps that's why it had been so shocking when Shea reached her first  post and found her skills casually dismissed by the male dominated  society of the Highlands.

She could still remember the disaster of that first mission. She'd lost  three men on a routine trade run over something that could have been  prevented if they'd simply listened.

Could Eamon be right? Could she bear some responsibility for the loss of life because of her inability to communicate?

Shea shook her head. Eamon was full of it. She'd given them her informed  opinion. If they ignored it because she was a woman and an outsider,  there was nothing she could do about that.

Shea kept as far from Eamon and the rest of the scouts for the rest of  the morning. Anytime it looked like someone was about to engage her, she  went out of her way to avoid them. She was successful in her endeavors  until they stopped for the evening.

Once they'd stopped, Shea didn't know what to do with herself. The men  worked as a team and whenever she tried to help she just seemed to get  in the way. She'd gotten used to the responsibilities with Eamon and the  others, but this was a different dynamic, and she didn't automatically  know her duties.         

     



 

She drifted toward a group, containing Clark, playing a card game. She  watched quietly for a while, trying to pick up the rules. It was  difficult. It seemed random to her, lacking any sort of logic. They each  held a set of cards with odd drawings on them. Every now and then one  would pick up a pair of dice and roll them and then play a card.

"Would you like to play, Daisy?" a woman with a large scar bisecting her  jawline asked. Her smile was cunning as she glanced up at her before  picking up the dice and rolling.

"I don't know the rules," Shea said.

There was a look between the players.

"That's okay; we'll teach you." This was said by a man not much older than Clark.

Clark coughed into his hand. Shea's eyes narrowed on him. That cough had sounded very like a laugh.

"I think I'll just watch," she said.

She didn't know what they were planning, but she had no intention of being the gullible newbie.

"It's impossible to learn Bones and Cards by just watching," a deep voice said beside her.

Shea jumped, her heart surging into her throat at the unexpected words.  Fallon watched her quietly before his gaze shifted to the players as  they sprung to their feet.

"Please. Sit. Continue your game."

The game slowly resumed as Fallon lingered by Shea.

She wondered if it would arouse suspicion if she made an excuse and walked away.

"The point of the game is to gather the most points before the deck runs out," Fallon told her.

Shea's eyebrows rose slightly at the statement, and she nodded wordlessly.

What would be a good excuse? It had to be important enough to call her from his company but not enough to arouse his interest.

"Points are anything that have a bone on them. The dice tells you which  set of cards hold ascension for each turn. It's a game of strategy more  than anything."

"Sounds like it's based more on luck than anything else," Shea observed.

She fought against a wince. Why did she have to engage? What did she  care what kind of game it was? She was trying to find a reason to  politely leave.

Fallon chuckled, not offended at her disagreement. "I can see how it  would appear so to an observer. Do you have another set I can use to  show my friend the game?"

The woman with the scar nodded and reached behind her into a pack,  withdrawing a set of beat up old cards and an equally dinged up set of  dice.

"Oh no, that's not necessary. I've never been very good at games."

"Nonsense. It'll be fun, and if you run with this group for very long,  it's practically a prerequisite that you learn if you want to fit in."

That's just it. Shea didn't care if she fit in and didn't intend to stick around for very long.

"Come." Fallon found a place for them to comfortably sit. "Normally, you  play this with four people, but it can be played with just two. There  are seven types of cards. Warlord, scout, adviser, soldier, assassin,  healer, and bone. Each type can do different things. Each role of the  dice tells you how strong an action is for your turn and the possible  reward. Traditionally, we used bones for the bet and to keep track of  points. Now, they use rocks to represent camp chores."

The cards blurred in his hands as he began to shuffle. Shea was already  confused by the rules. It hadn't been a lie when she said she wasn't  good at games like these.

"We each start with seven cards." He dealt the cards to Shea and  himself. He also upended a bag of colored marbles and parceled out 5  blue ones for each of them, 3 red ones and 2 yellow ones. "We'll play  the first few rounds face up so that I can explain what each move and  card means."

Shea found herself interested in spite of herself as he explained what  each card meant and how each round was played. He was patient as he  reminded her several times that the scout could not also take on the  warlord's role and that the healer could not kill the assassin.

She frowned down at her cards when he rolled a three. The number utterly  destroyed her hand. She had several options left but strongly suspected  that Fallon held the warlord and adviser, two cards that when paired  were some of the strongest in the deck. The three would limit the  actions he could take but not enough. She could pair her healer with her  assassin or use the scout to supplement the assassin but the damage  done to his cards might not be enough.

Hmm.

There might be one way. It was risky though and would mean rolling over  and letting him win unobstructed until the right moment. If she won the  game, it would be by the skin of her teeth and if her gamble failed  she'd lose by a landslide.

She'd have to be sneaky to keep him from suspecting.         

     



 

She peeked over at him, allowing a brief glimpse of worry to appear on  her face. He regarded her with the same impenetrable expression he'd had  the entire game.

She played her two weakest cards before picking up two more from the  deck to replace them. He countered with stronger cards, winning the  hand. The next several hands were more of the same.





Fallon regarded the bent head before him. He'd thought the boy would be  more of a challenge. Granted, it was the first time he'd played Bones  and Cards.

The game was a good chance to see how another person's mind worked. Were  they an aggressive player? Rash or cautious? Fallon hoped to learn  something of this unknown entity with the game. So far, all he'd learned  was that the boy couldn't bluff worth a damn. Every expression was  written on his face, letting Fallon know as clear as day what was in his  hand.